Read Trail of Hope (Tales of the Scrimshaw Doll) Online
Authors: Heidi Vanlandingham
Tags: #Multicultural
Trail of Hope (Tales of the Scrimshaw Doll) (12 page)
In the near distance, a horse whickered, and hers answered. The remainder of a campfire smoldered, and she could just make out Clay’s figure leaning against a large oak tree.
Her heart filled with love. He was so handsome. She loved the rich nutmeg color of his skin and the way his black hair curled at the ends. Her mouth slowly dipped downward, her smile creeping into a frown. He hadn’t moved. Her gaze took in his tired face, now ashen. She climbed down from her horse, but her hands kept hold of the saddle blanket for support. She took one last deep breath, then let go and walked toward him.
Squatting down, she touched his shoulder. “Clay?” Silence. She shook his shoulder a little harder. Nothing. Not even a muscle twitch. He slept so soundly, he didn’t even snore. She settled at his side, prepared to wait until he awakened.
****
Clay soared above the canopy, his wings spread wide. Overhead, the night sky appeared brilliant and crisp in the hawk’s night vision. He wasn’t worried. He knew the hawk would keep him safe until he found what he searched for.
Cold air riffled through his feathers as he folded his wings and dove lower. Beneath him, the dark expanse of trees stretched like a shadow over the land. Angling his sleek-lined body, he cut through a small gap between two large trees and landed on a thick branch covered in gnarled knots. A path appeared below the tree and then divided.
The two paths unfurled opposite each other. The hawk’s clear sight picked out tiny differences along each trail. The left path was darker where murky shadows misted from one tree to another. His spirit walked there, but an oppressive foreboding hung heavy over his heart the longer he walked upon that trail. The farther he traveled, the more labored his heart beat. Instinctively, he knew only pain and death waited at the end, but whether it was his or someone else’s, he couldn’t tell.
His spirit returned. The hawk spread his wings and called to the moon. Clay glanced down the other path, winding away to his right. The moon touched the trees and his heart immediately lightened, almost flying away to dance upon the air with the hawk. He inhaled. Wonderful scents from his childhood—just-baked bread, roasting meat, smells of a home long gone—filled his lungs. The scents beckoned him farther down the path, and he was helpless to resist. As if a hand pushed him faster, he ran onward, seeking its end.
He rounded a corner and stumbled to a stop. He stood in the clearing where he’d camped. The embers of his fire played upon a face so beautiful it took his breath away.
His eyes drank in her body before returning to her lovely face. Her long, black hair shimmered in the new day’s light. She slept next to him, her head on his shoulder. His heart stuttered when he recognized the emotion on her beloved face. The same longing, the same depth of feeling he had for her. And something else.
Contentment.
Her eyes opened slowly. A sheen of tears shimmered in their rich brown depths. His heart answered with a violent tug as his spirit was wrenched back into his body.
He blinked. Staring into her loving eyes, he smiled. He now understood the meaning of his dream, and, for the first time, a true peace settled into his heart and mind.
****
Overhead, a hawk spiraled against the brilliant blue sky. His call echoed among the trees, and, for a moment, neither of them breathed. Then Clay smiled, and the knots in her stomach loosened. She answered with a tremulous one of her own. “You had me worried,” she whispered, afraid the moment would disappear.
“I’m sorry. The Ancestors visited my dreams. I know my path now.”
She nodded, doing her best to keep the smile on her face even as her heart sank. “Your vow to avenge your family.” He looked surprised, and she hastened to explain. “I asked Martin to tell me.” She raised her hand, and her fingers brushed against his cheek. “Don’t be mad at him. Believe me, I can be quite persistent when I want to be.”
His deep chuckle made her skin feel all warm and tingly, and her stomach flip-flopped. She inhaled, and his scent filled her lungs. She became acutely aware that he was a man and she a woman.
“I have already experienced your persistence—several times.” She blushed, and the ghost of a smile hovered over her lips as he continued. “In this instance, I am very glad you have that particular trait. I’m not mad at Martin, only grateful that your pretty head rested on my shoulder when I awoke.”
Her grin widened. “Pretty?”
He rose, then leaned forward and grasped her hands, pulling her upright and into his arms. Her heart exploded with happiness.
“Sophia, you are not just pretty, you are beautiful. Inside and out.” She tried to bury her head in his warm chest, but he wouldn’t let her. He placed a finger underneath her chin and lifted, raising her face to within an inch or so of his. Her heart stuttered inside her chest, then quickened. She felt afraid yet excited at the same time.
“That vow was made long ago by a grieving son. My path now lies in a different direction, not dying to avenge my family but living a long life—showing you each and every day just how much I love you.”
Her eyes widened in amazement. She’d dreamed of this moment many times, but the reality was so much better—overwhelming, but magnificent.
She leaned into his hand, the calloused skin of his thumb tickling her cheek with its caress. Releasing all the emotion she’d kept locked inside her heart, she rose up on her toes. Cradling his cheeks in her hands, Sophia pressed her lips against his. The kiss was soft and tender and filled with all the love she felt for him.
Clay deepened the kiss and gripped her tighter, pulling her to him. She answered by wrapping her arms around his neck.
After a long moment, she pulled away with a breathless sigh and met his questioning glance.
Her cheeks felt like they might crack from the smile spreading across them. “Leaving Savannah and losing the only family I ever knew tore my heart out. But you’ve erased my pain. More than anything, I want to create new memories, happy memories with my Cherokee family, as we build our future.”
Several tears slid down her cheeks, and, with the back of his hand, he tenderly wiped them away.
“I love you, Clay Nighthawk Jefferson. If you will let me, I want to make your pain disappear and fill your future with love.”
He picked her up and twirled her around. His whispered reply wrapped lovingly around her heart. “You already have, my heart. You already have.”
A word about the author...
Heidi Vanlandingham has a bachelor’s in general studies, English emphasis, and double minors in history and business administration. She lives with her husband and two sons in Oklahoma.
Contact her at:
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